


tales from the polvo wives club

by estherroberts



Category: Ars Paradoxica (Podcast)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estherroberts/pseuds/estherroberts
Summary: this just in! read all about it! slices of time lost in polvo, featuring june barlowe, bisexual firecracker, and helen partridge, actual queen of the world!





	1. Chapter 1

“ _june_ ,” helen says, and she makes that one syllable sound like a long, sweet honeyed sigh as it slips from her lips. 

they’re sitting at dinner with several other scientist’s wives, though no one notices as june interlocks her fingers with helen’s under the table. 

“later,” june promises, “later.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“how much of your identity is yours, june? how much of it is your husband’s?” 

it is the middle of winter and june sits with her feet in the polvo community pool. no one uses it even when it’s warm, so it has become their place to talk when they don’t want to be overheard. 

she leans all the way back onto the concrete and tilts her head to look at helen, who lounges on a pool chair. “what an interesting question.” 

“mm. i was thinking about, names? my name. it tells you who i am, and…and half of it doesn’t even belong to me.” almost as an afterthought, she adds, “i used to be helen cook, you know? that was a reliable name.” 

june blows a piece of hair off her face. “i  _like_  barlowe. it suits me.” 

“you know full well that’s not what i mean.” 

“what do you want me to say, helen?” june sits back up and twists to face her. “that i’m frustrated by being erased, that i feel reduced to which meals i bring to parties, that all of my conversations are a balance between bragging about quentin’s accomplishments while concealing his secrets? because that’s all true. and i’m sick of it. but we  _love_  our husbands, helen.” 

“we do.”

“and we  _chose_  this, we made this sacrifice.” 

“we did.” helen sighs and rolls onto her side. “so why are we here?” 

june climbs out of the pool and slides onto the chair to hold helen. she buries her face in her dearest friend’s neck and doesn’t answer.


	3. Chapter 3

helen’s fingers curl against the bed sheets  
and  
june has to remind herself to breathe  
she  
can’t remember when she got here  
can’t remember how long she’s been here but  
in this moment  
helen is everything

all of june’s senses belong to her  
and she has given herself over willingly  
happily even   
dedicating herself to helen and helen’s body   
and helen’s heart and helen’s pleasure and helen’s  _voice_

and it feels like worship   
and it feels right

together they are  
answering the question   
they once asked the universe   
“do you see me”   
yes  _yes_ yes 

but it can’t last forever, 

it is a moment   
a snapshot   
a glimpse   
a  _possibility_

and so it can’t even last all night 

actions have  _consequences_    
and this is a betrayal 

it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter   
it doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter it   
s h o u l d n ’ t   
matter 

but god help her it does.


	4. Chapter 4

june barlowe has been running for two hours and as she makes the turn past the partridge residence, she hears singing again. 

this time, she slows, and knocks on the door to tell mrs. partridge how lovely her voice is. 

helen opens the door. she’s absolutely covered head to toe in flour, with a giant smile on her face. 

june can’t help but smile back, though her words have failed her now.

“oh hello! it’s june, right? come on in, i have lemonade!”

they head back to the kitchen and sort of look at each other for a moment. there’s something there that june can’t quite put her finger on? she wants to put it off to helen’s magnetism, this incredible alluring effect she seems to have on everyone, but it’s deeper than that. 

it’s almost like…attraction.

helen pours the lemonade and they sip quietly, stealing glances at each other every so often. 

the radio crackles and june realizes the song helen was singing is still on.

“do you dance?” helen asks. “i love this song!” 

“i… haven’t had the opportunity to in a long while,” june admits, not sure she likes the direction of this conversation. 

“my  _husband_  hasn’t much time for dancing, has yours?” 

“not lately, no. haven’t seen much of quentin, to be honest,” okay, now she’s  _really_ unsure. 

“mm. well then i suppose i’ll have to do as partner, won’t i?” 

and june surprises even herself when she answers, “only if i get to lead.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

june has to call helen back six more times before she answers again. 

“what.”

“helen!  _helen._ ” she pours years and years worth of separation and pain into her name. “for a minute, forget ODAR. just, please, talk to me.” 

helen sighs. “you never  _called_ , june. you never wrote.” 

“you know very well i couldn’t.” 

“and yet, here you are, calling me. why? why do i matter to you all of a sudden now?” 

“i had no right…” june whispers, “to shut you out after quentin’s funeral. none at all.” 

there’s a sound of reluctant agreement on the other end of the line. 

now june wants to sigh. she  _hates_ groveling. “i… was ashamed. of you, of us, of… of that  _fucking_  funeral where no one even knew the man they were eulogizing… and,” she adds quickly, “that is not an excuse. just an explanation. i took it out on you.” 

“you sure did,” helen answers, this time sounding a little hurt mixed in with her anger. 

“i am so sorry. i’m sorry i abandoned you.” 

“i accept your apology. and, uh, june?”

“yes.”

“for what it’s worth, i’m sorry too. for not giving you the space to grieve your husband the way you needed to.”

“thanks.” it takes her a little by surprise. “thank you, helen.” 

“i know i said it was a hike, but… if you’re ever in los angeles? come by.”

june smiles a little, and then remembers helen can’t see it. “i’d like that. i miss you.” 

“miss you too, junebug.”


	6. Chapter 6

it’s goddamn embarrassing. well, it’s a lot of things. but mostly it’s embarrassing. no one here knows quentin, no one here has anything of substance to say about him. these people worked with june’s husband every day, they saw far more of him than she  _ever_  fucking did, and this is what they came up with? 

esther roberts at least has the decency to pretend like she cares but that sally grissom…. what a mess. 

june scans the crowd one more time and her gaze falls on helen. she’s leaned over, whispering something to anthony and she doesn’t notice june looking. 

it hurts to see her.  

it hurts to be reminded of what they did. 

she tears her eyes away and stares at her black gloved hands. 

june can’t criticize the people in this town. she’s got no right. she’s worse than the lot of ‘em. 

she promises herself (and the ghost of quentin while she’s at it) that she’s never going to speak to helen again. 

of course, she’s tested not twenty minutes later. 

“i’m so sorry for your loss,” helen says in that beautiful, dignified voice and june knows the decent grieving widow thing to do is hug her and thank her but she can’t even look her in the eye and a hug would probably burn her skin. 

june turns away. she actually turns away, and ignores helen, and tells someone else she’s glad they could make it. 

she wants helen to hurt like she’s hurting.


	7. Chapter 7

“is everything ready?” june asks when helen opens the door. 

helen nods with a sly smile. 

“we have fifteen minutes,” june replies, sweeping into the house, scooping up helen, closing the door behind her and ushering them into a closet down the hall all in one fluid motion. “and that,” she says, beginning to kiss her way down helen’s neck, “is allowing for a five minute, patty fitzroy…just has to…be the first…guest cushion.”

helen grabs her face and whispers, “shut up, june,” before kissing her full on the lips. 

precisely fifteen minutes later, patty knocks loudly on the front door. 

“shit.” 

“ _shit_!”  

they spill out of closet, both giggling. quickly, sloppily, they fix each other’s hair, straighten each other’s clothes, and wipe the smudges of lipstick from all the places it doesn’t belong. 

“you’re beautiful,” helen tells her.  

another knock at the door.

“mm. thanks. now go! go go go go!!”

she ushers helen toward the door, but stays behind, unable to banish the giddy smile from her lips. 


	8. Chapter 8

it’s four in the afternoon when helen knocks on her door. 

june’s ready with a crack about not being invited to vegas with the gang, but then she sees helen’s face. 

“shit,” she whispers. “come inside, hon.” 

she helps helen with her coat and it’s silent as they head upstairs to june’s bedroom. 

they’re sitting cross legged on the bed, facing each other, and june waits. 

“our boys…” helen starts off, “are perhaps just a little fucked up.”

“sorry?” 

“i saw something in the desert, june, that’s gonna change the course of this war. change the course of the world, too.” helen is visibly uncomfortable, and june desperately wishes she could do something to help her. 

“what did you see?” she asks gently, “and what does it have to do with quentin and anthony?” 

helen takes a breath. “to put it simply, i saw a bomb. to put it poetically, i saw the end of days.” 

“ _shit_.” 

“you know what else i saw?” 

“what?” 

“my husband, my anthony, looking at that bomb like it was god’s holy light.” 

june scoots closer and wraps her arms around helen. she doesn’t have the right words to express the kind of sorrow that has just settled over her soul. 

“if i could cry i think i would,” helen whispers, “but i can’t, i’m just… i don’t know what to do. all these scientists think they’re striving for the greater good, june…. none of them can see, it might be greatness but it’s certainly not good.” 

june knows helen is right, and again, she is left with nothing to say. the project their husbands are working on might not be as clearly destructive as a bomb, but it’s a weapon all the same. 

with the smallest of sighs, june rests her head in helen’s lap. helen, in turn, lets out a sigh of her own and lightly runs her fingers through june’s hair.


	9. Chapter 9

helen has draped the sheets over herself in an almost artistic fashion, and she scribbles furiously inside of a well-worn notebook. 

june is lying sideways across an armchair, across from the bed, her clothes only halfway put back on. 

it’s silent but for the scratching of the pen, and not too well lit, but it’s warm (or maybe they’re just warm) and june is happy.

she doesn’t ask what helen is working on, her songwriting is private and june could never intrude on that. instead she thinks lazily about the nature of guilt. 

when she is with quentin, when she’s alone, and she doesn’t want to think about the fact that she’s committing adultery, she tells herself that because helen is a woman, it doesn’t really count as cheating. delegitimizing it like this makes her feel less guilty. it’s easier to manage if she thinks that this is just for fun, that it’s harmless. if she can pretend that her affair isn’t really an affair?

but that’s not anywhere near the truth. she loves helen. 

“hey, i love you too.”

oh. oh god.  “did i- how much of that- did i say-“ june stammers, sitting up quickly. 

helen gives her a sad smile. “all of it, or nearly all, i’m afraid.”

june swears and hops back onto the bed. 

“it is real, you know?” helen says softly. “it is legitimate.” 

“i know. i know, that’s why i-“ she swallows. “when i said that i loved you? that’s when i knew i couldn’t lie to myself anymore.”

“i’m not saying i don’t understand,” helen sets aside her journal and collects june’s hands in her own. “a lot of the women i knew in jazz…. it’s… it’s looser about who you love. and some of them take to it like water and some of them spend all their days doubting whether or not they’re going to hell for it. you’re a little in between the two, hmm?“ 

june nods and leans closer to helen. “do you ever feel bad?” 

“sometimes. but not for loving you, my fire.” 

for a moment, june forgets which parts of her body control her breath and she sits there stuck, until feeling rushes back into her body like a flood and she tilts her head to meet helen’s lips.


	10. Chapter 10

“hey, hell-raiser!” june says happily when helen picks up, “i’ve been listening to your record.” 

helen chuckles at the nickname. “oh really? it certainly took you long enough.” 

“i knooow!” she picks up the record and flips it around in her hand. “i like it.” 

“is that so? you sure you’re not just trying to flatter me, dear?” 

“since when have i ever stooped to flattery?” june allows a little smile into her words. 

“i suppose you really did like it.”

“yes! of course.” as june talks, she sets the record down and rests her fingertips on the name of the second track. “especially ‘firelight.’”

“your song.” 

“ _my_  song.” she hums just a little of it to helen, badly. 

“you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re hateful.”

“you wouldn’t have  _dared_  to say that to me four years ago.”

“there’s a lot i wouldn’t have dared to do four years ago.” june eyes her boxes, still mostly unpacked even after five months of living in evanston, and thinks about what she’s daring to do now. 

“we got braver, didn’t we.”

they have a set of rules, of the things they can talk about and the things they can’t. as of now, they edge closer and closer to forbidden topics and june realizes she has to do something, quickly.  “we did. hey, helen, did i ever tell you about the girl in carlsbad?”

“there was a girl in carlsbad? should i be jealous?”

“nooo,” june laughs, “it just… being with vicky proved to me that being with you… well. i guess it proved that i am genuinely attracted to women after all.”

“i am  _so_  glad.”

“i bet you are.”


	11. Chapter 11

june’s beginning to think that scientists will throw a party for any silly reason, but everyone’s getting dressed to the nines and dinner’s on bill donovan, so it’s not like she minds. 

so far, she’s done her best to be good arm-candy. she actually bothered to tame her hair last night, she’s in love with her dress, and she smiles demurely (or as close to that as she’s capable of) at everyone she greets. 

that is, until the partridges show up. 

june is reasonably certain that she’s being specifically targeted as the victim of helen’s attack on her good senses. god, forget the new generator project- helen’s  _smile_ could power the town. 

if june spoke, she can’t remember what she said. if she ate, she can’t remember the taste of the food. she’s utterly dazzled and distracted by helen just two seats away from her through the whole dinner. 

in the middle of dessert, june’s had enough. she stands up, flicks her eyes toward helen (who nods almost imperceptibly) and excuses herself. she walks out back of the building and leans against the wall, relishing the cool desert air. 

“hey,” helen whispers, appearing somehow silently not moments later. 

“ _hi._ ” 

“are you quite alright, june?” 

“i think you know the answer to that.” 

helen laughs delightedly. “i’m tempted to say my plan worked, but you haven’t kissed me yet!” 

“…kissed….you?” 

“if i’ve misread the situation, forgive me, but i believed that-” 

and just like that, june’s kissing her. as she tangles her fingers in helen’s hair, as she guides her to the wall, all her fears and all her doubts fall away. this is absolutely the happiest she’s been since moving here.


	12. Chapter 12

“june. june.  _june_ , please. say something, my love.” 

helen can only hear the sound of shaking breaths on the phone, only the occasional sob.  this is the first time june has answered the phone since the funeral, and she’s still not speaking. 

“i am so sorry. i am so so, deeply sorry. is there anything i can do, can i make you a casserole, i don’t know, just say something, june. please.” 

helen swallows, runs her free hand through her hair. nothing is working. she doesn’t know what else to do. she knows she’s being so selfish, so needy. she  _misses_  june like a chunk of her got torn off and she’s raw and lonely and  _hurting_  and of course that’s real pain, but when she pictures how june is feeling she knows it has to be so much worse. she wants to fix that, do something for june, for her fire, her heart, the way june has done so much for her. 

there’s a loud sniffle on the other end of the line, and then june clears her throat. 

helen waits for a beat, for two. but the silence makes her nervous, makes her feel that the edges of an impending isolation from the woman she loves are slipping ever so nearer. “junebug?” 

real, honest to god silence this time.   

“please.  _please_. say  _anything_.” 

“stop calling.”

the line goes dead, and helen sets the phone softly back into the cradle.  

now she’s the one crying.


	13. Chapter 13

“listen, doll, i love you and i’m happy to help out, but shouldn’t your  _husband_  have taken the day off to take care of you?”

helen, half asleep and propped up by couch pillows, waves her hands dismissively.

it’s been awhile since june’s made anything close to chicken soup (god, she hates cooking) but she’s doing her best. 

“are you drinking your tea?” 

“mmmph.”

“helen.”

“mmmmno.” 

“little sips.” 

“fiiiine.” she reaches forward and picks her up her cup from its coaster, drinking it slowly. 

“attagirl.” 

“shush.” she takes a few more sips then looks up at june. “would _quentin_  stay home for you?” 

“i don’t get sick.” 

“uh-huh. sure.” another small sip. “why don’t you come over here and kiss me to prove it?” 

“tempting,” june laughs, “but i’ll pass.” she busies herself adding ingredients for a little while, sneaking glances to make sure helen’s okay all the while. “hey.”

“what.”

“what the hell do i call you? like have you ever thought about that? what are we to each other? i mean now that we’ve established,” she waves her spoon around, and then gestures between them, thinking about the first time she said she loved helen. 

“we’re lovers, june.” 

june shudders. “awful word.”

“you’re my girlfriend? my beau? Person I Am Cheating On My Husband With?” 

she sticks out her tongue. “lovers is better than all of those, but somehow still _horrific._ forget i asked.” 

helen giggles and sets her cup back down. “hurry with that soup, lover.” 

“oh, shut up, you.”


	14. Chapter 14

the boys are out of town, and so, they have the weekend to themselves. june never would have thought a sentence could bring her so much joy but just thinking “we have the weekend to ourselves” is enough to make her nearly giddy. 

she wakes, in her own bed, on a saturday to helen, her beautiful, wonderful helen, staring at her. “hi.” 

“mmm. morning.” 

“you’re being creepy.”

helen makes an annoyed sound. “shh. let me bask.” 

june giggles and bats her eyelashes “had enough?”

“not really.” she stares a little longer, drags the back of her knuckle lazily across june’s cheek. “god, junebug, i love you so much. i’m certain my heart’s going to burst out of my chest and leaving a bloody, gaping hole.” 

“how do you manage,” june clears her throat to wake up her voice, “to be so romantic and so morbid at the same time?” she leans forward and kisses helen softly on the nose. 

“it’s a special talent of mine.” 

“c'mere.” 

helen scootches over and june wraps her arms around her with a contented sigh. “i love you too.”


	15. Chapter 15

helen is the only one here with   
her eyes open 

the only one looking and searching and   
questioning 

of course she could   
skip the church service   
like others have chosen   
in a town of science 

but she is here because she believes. 

to be absolutely clear 

helen doesn’t believe in sin   
she   
gazes across the church   
finds that piece of her soul   
whose head is bent in prayer 

she thinks  _june_ believes in sin  
she  _thinks_  june believes in god  
she thinks june believes in _helen_

when she looks at june   
kneeling, lost in devotion   
she can only remember   
another time   
another worship   
a different kind of altar 

helen would worship at june’s altar too   
if she let her


	16. Chapter 16

it’s past 1 am in evanston and june couldn’t be more awake. she’s been talking to helen for four hours, and even though this isn’t the first of their late night chats, it seems like they never run out of things to talk about. this isn’t hindered in the slightest by the fact that neither of them has said a word about ODAR. 

“and so i told producer that he can’t turn on the recorder in the next room, because no one gets my voice without my consent, you know what i mean?”

june freezes. she does know what helen means. 

“there’s something you ought to know. i-“

“if it’s about anthony, or quentin, or ODAR, or polvo-“

“well, it is a little.”

“don’t say it.”

“i have to. it’s-“

“don’t.” 

june sighs and starts pacing around her living room. 

“june, my dear, i’d like to make that a set of rules, if we can. things we won’t say anything about.” 

“helen, don’t get me wrong, i’d like that as much as you.” 

“so it’s settled.”

“no. listen, bill donovan had this way of getting people to do things he wanted them to do. he had these, these-“

“ _june._ ” 

june stops. 

“that man doesn’t have anything over me anymore. i don’t know what he had and i don’t care, so can we please move on?”

she makes an exasperated sound into the phone line and then agrees. “tell me about that hamburger jingle you did for the ad campaign.”


	17. Chapter 17

june stands at helen’s door. she’s shaking half with excitement and half with nerves. she’d loved dancing with helen so much that she just had to come back and get to know her better. 

when helen opens the door, she grins sheepishly. “hey.” 

“hi. did you come for another round?” 

june smiles sheepishly and tells her that no, she’s here for a little inquisition. 

helen’s expression can only be described as intrigued as she leads june into the living room. 

they sit, june, perched eagerly on the end of her couch cushion, and helen, close by, legs crossed and comfortable. 

june’s mouth is out ahead of her even before she’s seated. the questions tumble like jostling crowds and she can’t stop them now. “how many siblings do you have? where did you grow up? who are some of your idols? do you like coffee or tea better?” 

helen chuckles, “i hope you don’t mind if i take those one by one?” 

“not at all, but you should know that i’m thinking of more as we speak.” 

another small chuckle. “i have one younger brother, his name is sampson. he’s actually quite a bit younger than me.” she smiles stiffly, and adds that he just got drafted. 

“ah.” june extends her hand in sympathy and helen takes it gratefully. 

“we grew up in rochester. quite a stark contrast to this god awful desert… and hmm. idols… billie holiday? probably bessie smith? and,” she smiles, “i like both.” 

june is immediately suspicious that helen is answering a question she didn’t ask. 

they talk for what feels like hours, and eventually helen takes over the questioning. by the time they’ve laid out their entire lives for each other, they’ve moved closer on the couch and their knees are nearly touching. 

“i’m fascinated,” helen tells her, clearing her throat, “utterly and truly. would you mind,” 

with the fading light, it’s harder to see, but june thinks that helen is blushing. “yes?” 

“can i perhaps drop by tomorrow afternoon? i’ll bring lemon tarts.” 

june grins. “i would love that.”


	18. Chapter 18

_to: mrs. barlowe._

_you have forty-eight hours to gather your belongs. at 8 am on monday, you will be escorted to carlsbad, NM, in an armored vehicle._

_you will also find a package at your feet. enclosed is three hundred dollars, new house keys, and everything you could need for your new life. all the necessary paperwork has been processed._

_also enclosed is a tape. refusal to comply with these instructions will result in the contents being broadcast throughout the town. i strongly recommend you give it a listen before you put up a fight. please keep in mind that it would be well within our rights to have you arrested. it simply seemed that this solution would be simpler for all of us._

_best,  
bill donovan. _

leaving the rest of the package on the doorstep, june immediately runs inside with the tape. she turns it on and sits down, arms and legs crossed so tightly she feels they might disappear into the rest of her body. 

she’s tempted to cover her ears, but instead, she listens as helen’s voice crackles on. 

_”i’m not saying i don’t understand. a lot of the women i knew in jazz…. it’s… it’s looser about who you love. and some of them take to it like water and some of them spend all their days doubting whether or not they’re going to hell for it. you’re a little in between the two, hmm?“_

_“do you ever feel bad?”_

_“sometimes. but not for loving you, my fire.“_

june can’t listen to anymore of this. she could barely listen to her and helen talking, so there’s no way she’s going to let the tape run and listen to…no. no way. she shuts off the tape abruptly, standing frozen next to it. 

she’ll go. she’ll pack up her things. and go to fucking carlsbad and leave this fucking town and finally be done with blaming helen, with blaming herself. after all, they didn’t kill quentin.  _sally grissom did._


	19. Chapter 19

“helen.” june is on her way out the door, a van full of anti-ODAR revolutionaries in her driveway, when she realizes she can’t leave without doing this first. 

“hi, junebug?” helen’s smile is apparent even through the phone. 

“hey, uh… i- there’s so much i want to tell you. so much i need to do, and sort out. but i just wanted to tell you, helen, i still love you. i don’t think i ever really stopped, i think i just… i had to figure out how.” 

“mhm.” 

“and i was wondering, before i- before i do this thing that might be dangerous and you would definitely disapprove of-” 

“yes,” helen interrupts with a strong and resolute answer. 

“sorry?”

“yes, i love you too. i wanted to say it sooner, but… we had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of hurts to unravel, and well, we did that. so yes, my fire, i do love you too.” 

“oh. oh gosh. okay.” 

“you’re a goof, june barlowe.” 

“you’re lovely, helen cook.” 

“call me back when you’re done storming the castle, okay? and don’t you dare get hurt.” 

june sighs, half out of relief that helen knows what she’s doing, and half out of relief that her feelings are returned. 

“love you.”

“love you too.”


End file.
